


Almost Collected, Almost Composed

by beschleunigte



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beschleunigte/pseuds/beschleunigte
Summary: "Might I make a proposition?"In which Ignis offers to talk you through a new experience, and it proves to be beneficial for both of you.





	Almost Collected, Almost Composed

**Author's Note:**

> I need multiple copies of my holy book after this, what am I doing with my life, it's almost 4am, WHY DON'T I LOVE MYSELF.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading? Love your bodies, and all that <3

At nine o'clock, and not a second earlier, your phone began to buzz on your desk. Trust Ignis to always have impeccable timing, and to keep to his word.

Your stomach was turning in on itself—had been all day. Of course, it was already a natural reaction to him anyway, but all things considered, you had a reason to be nervous. Really, you'd had one ever since you confessed to him on your couch, halfway through a slow but feverish kiss with his hands on your thighs, that you weren't sure how much farther you were willing to go. Or rather, how much farther you _could_ go. He'd looked at you quizzically, and asked what you meant by that, and the words came out of you before you could stop them. Like coughing up feathers.

"I've never come before."

Gods above, you wanted to kick yourself for how vulgar that sounded.

But bless him for all his patience and gallantry, because he'd nudged you out of his lap, your hands carefully folded in his, and spent the rest of the evening talking with you, asking practically all the right questions at all the right times. Whether you ever wanted to, whether you'd ever tried, whether you wanted to try with him. (Yes, yes—but to no success, and yes—in time.) He hung onto each word, stroked the backs of your hands with his thumbs, let you shake out whatever you needed to.

Then, once the conversation had lulled, he'd said, "Might I make a proposition?"

Which was why you were here at all—and not, as you realized—picking up your damn mobile phone.

You scrambled to take the call before you could miss it (even if, to your credit, it made you come off as though you weren't desperate to talk to him and go through with this). "Hello?"

"Darling." How satin managed to crackle through the phone was beyond you, but Ignis seemed to do it with ease. "Are you well?"

How four words managed to calm your nerves in so little time was even farther beyond you. A miracle worker, Ignis could be sometimes. "I'm all right," you told him, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and hoping your voice had a fraction of the warmth that his did. "Made it to the motel okay?"

"A caravan, actually. Can't say I've decided which is the more luxurious of the two."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Outside, far too absorbed in that King's Knight game. Unattended, they could be out there for hours at a time."

"You say, as though you weren't addicted to it yourself."

"Once upon a time, perhaps." You could practically hear the laugh in Ignis's voice, along with the calculated footsteps toward some unidentifiable piece of furniture. An armchair, maybe. "You're... quite sure you'd like to go on with this? In this fashion?"

You nodded, pressing the phone a little closer to your ear. Even if the whole situation had been his idea to begin with, it was still your request to do this over the phone. Personal space was still a little overwhelming. "I'm sure. Ready when you are."

A sigh of relief. "As you wish." And then, "For the record, it... would be to your benefit to switch to speaker phone."

Your brow furrowed. "How come?"

"Why..." A smile curled at the corner of his sentence. "So that you might have _both_ hands at your disposal, of course."

And there was the turn in your stomach again, and an involuntary shudder. Still, you did as he asked, placing your phone on the pillow beside you and getting comfortable. 

"There is one thing I'd like you to remember tonight, and one thing alone," he began, somewhere between commanding and reassuring—the words of any advisor, you supposed. "And that is that you must relax, darling. No overthinking. No self-inflicted pressure. You've got the time, and you shall take it for yourself. We both will. Understood?"

Whether you were supposed to shiver in anticipation or melt in the comfort of his voice, you weren't sure; somehow, you were able to do both. "Understood."

" _Wonderful._ " The words seemed to slow time and drip through the speaker, delightfully incriminating for all the space they took up in your bedroom; without thinking, you curled your fingers into your sheets. "Then, would you be so kind as to strip for me? Completely?"

Quietly, you turned out the lamp on your nightstand table, pulling your shirt over your head and wiggling out of your shorts. "Um... Underwear too?" you asked, fingertips shyly pulling the waistband taut for lack of anything to do.

"I did say _completely,_ did I not?"

His words shot straight between your legs, and your teeth sank into your lip as you tried to squirm the feeling away. "Right, right." With a deep breath, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and pushing them toward the foot of the bed. The rest of your clothes lay beside you, folded in a neat pile. In some corner of your mind, you knew he would have liked that.

"Comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be." You never really took the liberties to be nude outside of the shower. "Now what?"

"Lie down for me, would you? We'll move forth from there." There was a cadence to his tone that made everything he said sound like it balanced on knifepoint, no intentions to topple over in sight. "Remember, darling. Relax."

Relax. Right. Another deep breath, and you were settled on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your hair fanned out underneath you. Like sleeping, you told yourself. Everybody slept. And most people did this. Most people... So why couldn't you? Why did you keep freezing every time you tried?

Relax. Relax. Relax.

"Now," Ignis said, and thank the gods he spoke, because you weren't sure how deep you would have delved into your thoughts otherwise, or if you would have been able to resurface. "Could you, as slowly as you can manage, run your hands along your body for me? Above the waist, please."

You quirked your lips. "I thought I was supposed to—"

"You _thought,_ perhaps." Did he always sound that attractive when he interrupted people? "We're taking this slowly, you and I, and haste will do nothing for your pleasure. And I would so _love_ for you to experience it to full capacity."

Haste would do nothing, maybe, but his voice was already doing volumes' worth of work. Palms flat and eyes shut, you trailed your hands from your collarbones down to your hips, and back up again. You must have let out a sigh, because Ignis nearly purred in delight, a low rumble at the base of his throat. "Perfect, darling. Keep at it. Take some liberties, if you'd like."

At the sound of his praise, you arched up into your own touch, knees propped up and nails grazing along your skin. Experimentally, you gave your breasts a gentle squeeze, and you breathed out again, nipples beginning to pebble against your palms. For a flicker of a moment, you pressed your thighs together, then relaxed them. If this was how you reacted to him over the phone, you could only imagine what it would be like hearing him in person whenever you got around to this.

Almost as if on cue, Ignis's laugh rose through the speaker. "Touching your chest, are you? How does it feel?"

You swallowed thickly. "G-good..."

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you." He clicked his tongue. "They're getting rather rowdy just outside."

They weren't; you barely heard a peep from them. "It feels _good,_ Ignis," you said, voice hushed and teetering on the edge of a broken sigh.

There was another lull, familiar to you both; you didn't need to see him to know that he was smiling. "Keep your hands there, then. You deserve to enjoy yourself just a touch longer."

With your heels digging into the bed, you let your hands fit the curve of your breasts. Another squeeze, another breath, and your back was bowing again. You were suddenly hyperaware of the blankets against your skin, and a growing dull ache between your legs. Was it... weird, to be turned on just by being naked? By the thought of being exposed like this, even if only to yourself. Or was it because of Ignis's presence, even by phone?

Without meaning to, you started to wonder what it would feel like if these were his hands instead of yours. Hardly callused from battle, bare once stripped of his gloves, mapping over every curve and ridge and line of your torso, lingering in places, you didn't expect them to. Your thumbs—his thumbs, in your mind—drifted over your nipples, circling slowly, and you shivered through loosely clenched teeth.

Breath hitched—it might have been yours; it might have been his. "What are you doing, there, darling? What are you thinking of?" His voice sounded a little more strained now; there was no mistaking that. All you could manage in response was a tight, high-pitched whine, through closed lips, and a pinch had you rolling your hips, grinding against nothing, aching for something. "They're... sensitive," you whispered, carefully rolling them between thumb and forefinger.

"Are they, now...?" Ignis seemed to be mulling something over—perhaps what to tell you next, perhaps a thought he figured he shouldn't fancy just yet. The sound of it made you tip your head back, and in your mind he'd made the move to hold you down by your waist, to kiss along your neck the way he had countless times, to take your breast in his mouth and swirl his tongue just so—

And you moaned. Honest to the gods, you moaned, and he'd _heard you._ You sat bolt upright, jamming your hands in your lap. Maybe you'd gone a little too far. Maybe he thought you sounded weird.

"Are you all right so far?" Concern laced his voice; he must have heard the rustle of your sheets. "Would you like to stop?"

"Ah..." You cleared your throat, awkwardly rubbing your arm. "S-sorry about that. Got a little carried away there."

"Is that not the point of this?"

"Well, yeah, it is, but I—the sound—"

Another pause. "Darling," he said, every inch of him radiating affection and something... something almost predatory. "You sounded _delectable._ "

You had to press your lips together in the firmest line to hold back the sounds bubbling in your throat. It took you a few moments, but you lay yourself back down, following that same pattern he'd asked of you. As slowly as possible, up to the shoulders, down to the hips. It was all in the buildup, and soon enough you were palming your chest again. The image was back, of him with his hand on one breast and his mouth on the other, and humming against your skin. However it might have felt was enough to get your hips moving, and your thighs rubbing together. Searching for touch.

Ignis was right. Rushing this would have been no good.

"Are you ready to keep going?" His voice had dropped to just above a whisper, and you could almost feel his breath on you. You nodded, then remembered he couldn't see you, and he laughed softly. "Then, there's something more I'd like you to do for me. Would that be all right?"

"Yes..." 

You hadn't meant to sound so breathless, but he didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was imagining you, too, what you would look like underneath him like this. "I'd like you to rest your hands on your knees," he said, and this time you were sure his breath had caught on his own words. "Draw them in, along your thighs... the insides, if you will... back up, to your knees, back down again. As much as you like. And do mind you don't touch yourself just yet. Do you understand, darling?"

Sighing, you did as you were told, thighs quivering under your touch from the anticipation of it all. You might have wondered how wet you were—if you were even wet at all—but you figured you'd find out at his command. "Are you touching yourself too?" you asked, hoarsely; you squeezed at your thighs to test the feeling, and your words caught on another quiet whine.

"Not right now," Ignis replied with a thoughtful hum. "Miraculously, I've been able to exercise some self-control."

"Miraculously?"

"Were I not doing this entirely for your benefit and comfort, my love," he said, "I would be pleasuring myself right alongside you."

Of their own volition, your stomach tensed, and you felt a clench and a throb between your legs. You parted your knees a little wider, fingers trailing dangerously close to your core, finding purchase in the junction of your thighs and pelvis, and the air felt cool against you. "You can..." You paused and sighed, hips rolling out another sudden jolt. "If you want to, you can."

Another hum, somewhere between contemplative and satisfied. "Is that what you wish?"

"Only if, if you want to." Any longer and you were sure you'd lose your mind from the deprivation of it all.

"We'll see" was his answer—ever the altruist, he was. And then, "What's the matter? You sound incredibly needy all of a sudden. It couldn't be that you're dying to touch yourself, could it?" He shifted in his seat, and it creaked under his weight. "It aches, doesn't it, darling? After all that teasing, you'd love nothing more than the feeling of your own fingers between your thighs, to rock and writhe with every wave of pleasure you allow yourself." He chuckled, and you felt it in the pit of your stomach, a twinge, a coil building to spring. "Awfully dirty of you, isn't it, to feel that way."

Your toes curled, and your own voice surprised you when you spoke, sultry and near-hoarse. " _Ignis..._ "

"Yes? What is it?"

" _Please._ "

"Please what? I'm afraid you'll have to tell me; I'm not afforded the privilege of seeing you right now, much as I'd like to."

You bit your lip, hard, and squirmed as your hands rested on your inner thighs. "I-I want to do it, I want to touch myself—"

He inhaled, sharply, and sounded like he was composing himself. "Very well," he said, voice cracking and deep. "Spread yourself for me, then. Tell me how it feels. Deep breaths."

Maybe the mantra was for him now; even still, you took a breath of your own, and willed yourself to stop trembling. Relax. Relax. Nothing would hurt you. Nothing would judge you. Nothing to scare you. Ignis was there. Ignis was waiting.

One more breath, and you parted your folds with a hand, hot to the touch, pulsing against the cool air. With your free hand, you ran two fingers along your slit, exhaling sharply as you bit back a whimper.

"Are you wet, darling?" he asked; his voice soothed and aroused you all at once.

"Uh huh..." You thought you might have heard clothes rustling on his end, but you figured he was just running his hand along his thigh, the way he did when self-control took top priority. When he was restless and didn't want anyone to know. "It's, it's _really_ wet. Should I have put down a towel or something?"

"Hindsight comes with perfect clarity," he murmured. "On the other hand, there's something... tantalizing, about feeling your own bedclothes against your body, no?" He cleared his throat, and the rustling stopped, but only for a moment. "No matter. Continue, would you? Slow, gentle strokes for now."

That was what you liked about him—about the whole thing, really. He eased you into things. Lured you, you might even say. Anyone else might have used the whole affair as a power trip, and here he was, encouraging and questioning so well you were almost convinced that this was your idea all along. And you went along with him; your fingers followed his words, and you could almost perfectly picture him sitting in front of you, watching your every move, admiring how you were spread and wanting and sighing for him. "That's it," he said, just a touch above moaning of his own. "That's it. You're doing wonderfully," and there was the unmistakable clink of a belt, the undoing of a zipper. "Have you touched your clitoris yet?"

It was only a body part, but it sounded particularly filthy coming from him—you didn't think you'd ever even heard him swear before. Just as he spoke, your fingers pressed just a little higher, and this time, you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips. " _Yes—_ "

"Keep them there." His chair creaked again, and he let out a sigh of his own, and maybe an unceremonious spit; somehow the mental image of him spitting into his palm out of desperation was more than enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Slowly, slowly..."

You were already a step ahead of him, rubbing slow circles around your clit, pressing up against it every so often, so that his name came out as a choked whimper. Your hips rocked up to meet each touch, and you wished he were here. Right here. Watching you, praising you, eager to touch and kiss every part of you. "Can you hear me?" you asked.

"Hear what?" There was a pause, a fumble, and the quality of his voice changed. Maybe he'd put in headphones; he couldn't very well get away with speaker phone the way you could. "Hear what, darling?"

"H-how wet I am, how I'm touching myself—" You whined again, biting your lip, and the slick sounds of your fingers against you seemed to fill up the whole room. "Fuck, Ignis, it—mm—feels so good—"

"So unbe _coming,_ using language like that," he bit out, and there was a thud and a deep moan on his end as his head hit the back of the chair. "Astrals above, what I wouldn't _give_ right now to—"

"Guide me," you begged him, writhing against your own touch, pulsing with each press of your fingers against your clit. "Tell me what to do next."

He was near-panting when he spoke again. "A little faster, darling, just a little more. Slip them inside, if you can..."

Maybe there was some part of you that was turned on merely by following instructions, but whether there was or wasn't, you followed him to a T, letting your body lie slack against the bed before you eased one finger in. It didn't hurt, exactly; it was a stretch, a discomfort that dissipated as you pumped back and forth, felt along the slick heat of your walls until you could fit a second finger inside. Every moan and whine and whimper came out wordless and unabashed, and you turned your head toward the receiver so he could hear you better. "I wish you were here," you sighed, the hand that spread you coming to pick back up on your clit. "I wish these were your hands. I wish this was _you._ "

That got another groan out of him, and the chair jerked under his movements. "If only I _were,_ " he replied through clenched teeth, "but I'm afraid I'd lose all sense of control."

"That's what you said earlier, and look at you now." You let out a breathless laugh, all but choking on it when you hooked your fingers just so. "Jerking yourself to the sound of my voice."

" _Must_ you call it that?" he protested, though he punctuated it with a sigh of your name. The taste of self-contradiction.

"Do you like it, Ignis?" you asked, with a newfound confidence. Maybe it was the buildup. Maybe it was the lack of inhibition. "It feels good— _ah_ —d-doesn't it? Touching yourself on the phone like this, isn't _that_ what's unbecoming of a Royal Advisor?"

He muffled a moan with his hand, and when he pulled it away, he was panting; you could feel every breath between your legs.

"Tell me it feels good," you urged him, bucking against your fingers. "Tell me, tell me, _please—_ "

He shuddered, and moaned your name a little louder, and _gods,_ he sounded as amazing as you thought you must have sounded to him. You echoed his name back to him, sped up your fingers without being told. "I want to come," you whined, spreading your legs a little wider, your whole body pulsing with the need for it. "Please, I want to come—"

"Then _come,_ darling." If you listened closely enough, you could hear slick sounds coming through the speaker, evenly paced, but fast and desperate. "So I can hear you."

You could almost hear him saying it right there with you, a vulgar, strained murmur in your ear. You rocked, and shuddered, and worked as fast as your fingers were allowed, until your back was arched and the crown of your head touched your pillows, and you were caught between moans of his name and bitten-back curses and desperate cries of _I'm coming, yes, I'm coming—_

All those jolts and all those waves built up to something that seized you, had you twitching and keening, riding out the high for every second it was worth. You pulsed around your fingers, toes curled tight, and you settled down just in time to hear Ignis reach his peak—a low groan in his throat, the rhythmic creak of the chair under him, the praises he all but sang under his breath, _good girl, that's my darling._

And then he sighed, and you eased your fingers out of yourself, and it was quiet. The comfortable kind, that allowed you to do nothing but catch your breath and your thoughts for just a few moments.

"Well, then," he said, almost collected. Almost composed. "I suppose we've achieved what we needed to."

You couldn't help but giggle, deep with satisfaction, and rolled over for a couple of tissues. That was Ignis: back to business immediately after he'd indulged himself for whatever little time he allowed. "Are you all right?"

"Quite," he replied, and this time the hum was of satisfaction. "Dare say I've never felt better. And yourself, my love?"

You fidgeted, tossing the used tissues and biting your lip as you looked down at yourself. "Still kind of processing all this... everything."

"A natural reaction to new experiences." He seemed to be getting up, moving around. Tidying up after himself. "And such vulnerable ones, at that."

You hesitated. "Stay with me a while longer?" Maybe Prompto would lose another round of King's Knight and demand a rematch. Maybe it would keep them out until you were ready to hang up. It was a selfish thought, but you could hope.

Ignis let out a soft laugh. Settled into his chair once more. Felt like comfort. Like safety. "As you wish."


End file.
